That kid is all grown up now. He’s buried a few dreams and rebuilt others from scratch. He learned that invention isn’t just about what you build—it’s about what you survive. The river taught him patience. The market taught him humility. And the land? It taught him to endure.
Never cut yourself short
🛠️ Five Businesses, One Beeper, and the Lessons That Stuck
Intro
I’ve owned five businesses. Each one came with its own set of challenges — some I overcame, some overcame me. But every venture taught me something. Three were winners. One was a quiet fade. And one was a hard failure: a beeper service that never stood a chance against the big dogs.
The Winners
Briefly highlight the three successes — what made them work? Was it timing, grit, a pivot, or just plain luck? Give readers a glimpse of what winning looks like from the inside.
The Quiet Fade
Not every loss is loud. One business didn’t crash — it just didn’t catch. Maybe the market wasn’t ready, or I wasn’t. I let it go without fanfare, but it taught me how to listen to silence.
The Beeper Battle
This one stung. I believed in it. I built it. But the big companies had deeper pockets, wider reach, and more muscle. I learned that sometimes, the little guy doesn’t lose because he’s wrong — he loses because the game is rigged.
Lessons That Last
- Know when to walk away — not every fight is worth the bruises.
- Celebrate the wins, study the losses — both are teachers.
- Resilience isn’t just surviving — it’s learning, pivoting, and trying again.
Closing Thought
I don’t regret the beeper business. It sharpened my instincts. It taught me humility. And it reminded me that even in failure, there’s a story worth telling.
💡 Success Can Happen
Owning your own business is no small thing. It’s a mountain of risk, doubt, and long nights — especially when you’re starting with nothing but a dream.
I was barely a high school graduate. I didn’t know the first thing about business. But I knew one thing: I needed to own something of my own. I needed a shot.
At 20, I was working five days a week, pulling in about $200. In my mind, I wasn’t going anywhere. I didn’t see a future. I didn’t see a path. But I had this itch — this quiet, stubborn belief that maybe, just maybe, I could build something. Anything.
I didn’t care what kind of business it was. I just needed to try.
I dream for another couple of years. In my mind, I need to move on, but how? I have no money and no real way to get money. What am I going to open? The only business I can succeed in is the one in my mind. It’s going to happen and not just in my mind. I am going to gamble by borrowing from the mob…
The Mob
💸 The Fool’s Loan
Nobody but a fool borrows from the mob. But when you’re young and kinda dumb, you do foolish things.
I’d been betting on football for a few years. Got connected with a few bookmakers. They knew some of the guys in the money-loaning business — the kind of business where the interest isn’t written down, but the consequences are.
No, don’t do it. I’m telling you now — don’t.
But back then, I wasn’t going to work five days a week for someone else the rest of my life. I had a dream, and I had no capital. So I was going to borrow money from these guys.
What I didn’t know was that they already knew me. I’d been taking bets for years, and word travels fast in those circles. I thought I was walking in cold. Turns out, I was already on their radar.
Yes, I borrowed the money. And I’ll talk more about that in a bit.
Still working???
🎲 From Paychecks to Parlays
Yes, I was still working — but the real money was coming from the bets. I had about thirty people betting with me, and the cash was flowing. It was a whole different world from the one that paid me $200 a week and kept me reined in like a broke horse.
Then I got laid off. And instead of panic, I felt something else: freedom.
This was the game-changer.
I went from clocking five days a week to playing ball three nights a week and closing the bars most nights. I was becoming a real hood — and I say that with a grin. Life was starting to feel good. Big time.
Working five days a week for someone else? Never again
🎯 The Debt That Changed Everything
I was twenty years old, making $200 a week and gambling like I had a bankroll. I didn’t. Before I knew it, I was $4,000 in the hole to a bookmaker.
Four grand. At twenty. Making two hundred a week. How in the world was I ever going to pay that?
Then came the offer — the kind you don’t refuse.
The only reason I can tell this story now is because I’m the only one still alive who was part of it. He said, “Work for me. Collect money. Turn your people’s bets over to me. Do that, and your debt disappears.”
Just like that, I was in the game.
Holy hell — it felt like hitting the Powerball. And Powerball didn’t even exist yet.
My world was changing. Fast. And for the first time, it felt like it was changing for the good.
Life-changers by accident
🎸 Sex, Drugs, Gambling — and the Cost of Collecting
My life was changing — fast, and in a big way. It felt too good to be true.
I was now a bookmaker. My job? Collect money and take bets on the weekends for the main guy. Simple. Clean. Or so I thought.
But when you’re the guy taking bets, people start assuming you can get them other things too. And they were right. I was selling pot and coke — that’s pretty much all there was back then. This was around 1980, and the scene was loud: sex, drugs, gambling, and rock and roll. And roll I did.
It was wild. It was profitable. It was dangerous.
The worst part? Collections. Some people thought they didn’t have to pay. Thought they could stiff the bookmaker. That was a mistake.
I guarantee you — they paid.
Lucky or just plain stupid
🎬 Living the Script — Without the Credits
I was lucky. Or at least it felt that way.
I was having the time of my life. If you’ve seen Goodfellas, I’d be Hill — minus the snitching, and with pot and coke instead of the harder stuff. That movie? It’s almost like it was written from my script.
By twenty-five, I was just hoping to make it to thirty. By thirty, I was hoping to see forty. But honestly, it didn’t matter much. One day bled into the next, and the nights were louder than the mornings.
I’d been living this life for five years now — gambling, dealing, collecting. And the paranoia was creeping in. My name was getting around, and not in the good way. I started wondering if the feds were watching. I didn’t know for sure, but I felt it.
Isn’t this a bitch?
Now I needed a pretend job to cover my expenses. Something to make it look legit. But not a five-day-a-week grind — I’d already sworn that off
Here’s the thing about being a criminal. I wasn’t looking at it like I was doing something wrong. What I was doing just happened to be illegal at the time lol. I started getting arrested over and over because the chief of police in my neighborhood thought he was Elliot Ness. I hung with Italians who were in the mob, so he thought that by arresting me, I would tell on them. He was so wrong, but he continued to arrest me over and over. He also did a gambling sweep, arrested about five of us, and put us on the news as underworld figures. So now let’s go back to borrowing from the mob, and hopefully now it will make sense.
business or back to work!
🍻 From Union Muscle to Sports Bar Dreams
I landed a job with a local union — not for my resume, but for being kind of a tough guy. The gig? Sleep all day, and if trouble broke out in the hall, I was the one who had to fight for our side.
Easiest job a man could ever have. And I hated it.
I’d been living outside the lines for years — gambling, dealing, collecting. You don’t go back to punching a clock after that. Not without losing something in your gut.
I needed my own business. I needed to be the boss.
So yeah — I’m going to buy a bar. And not just any bar. A sports bar. Doesn’t it just make sense?
I’ve been living in the world of bets, games, and late nights. Now I’m going to own the room where all that energy lives. This isn’t just a business move — it’s a declaration.
🍻 The Weekend That Changed Everything
One of my drug suppliers owned a bar. Said he was ready to sell — wanted $100,000 for it.
Living the good life doesn’t exactly build a savings account. So a hundred grand might as well have been a million.
But he made me an offer: if I could come up with $45,000, he’d finance the rest.
I didn’t want to work for anyone. Not after the life I’d been living. I needed to find that money — fast.
My boss told me I could borrow whatever I needed. But he didn’t recommend buying a bar. Said it was a bad idea.
But I was still young. Still dumb. And I wanted that bar.
The mob guys I knew made it happen — in one weekend.
That weekend changed my life. Again.
Being in business!
🍻 From Lead Singer to Bar Owner — The Blues Saved Me
Being a 25-year-old guy and owning a bar? It’s like being the lead singer in a band. The lights are on, the crowd’s buzzing, and the fun is just beginning.
Only problem? I didn’t have a clue how to run a business.
Luckily, the previous owner stuck around to help me learn the ropes. But the bills? They didn’t wait. I owed him $1,700 a month. I owed the mob $1,500 a month. That’s $3,200 before rent, utilities, payroll, and a dozen other things I couldn’t even count.
No wonder he wanted to sell. LOL.
The bar was in St. Louis, Missouri. And back in 1984, bars had satellites the size of spaceships. That spring, the St. Louis Blues made it to the third round of the Stanley Cup playoffs — and those satellites were the only way to watch the games.
Boom. Packed house. Every night. For over a month.
I made a small fortune. Paid back most of the $45,000 I borrowed from — well, you know who. LOL.
How lucky can you be?
I went from scared-to-death “maybe” to “don’t owe them anymore.” And now? I could finally focus on learning how to run a bar.
And I did just that.
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